A New Yorker's thoughts from the top of the Empire State Building

This story was originally published on September 1, 2018 at Jotmagsb.com

It’s quiet. Weirdly quiet because New York City, especially Fifth Avenue, is always clamorous with its obnoxious car horns and cautious tourists who assume this city is more dangerous than it is. Obnoxious as it may be, though, it’s never cacophonous, not to me anyway.

I’m an introvert in the sense that I love being alone, even in big crowds. I’ve adapted to doing things alone that the average person would usually do with a group of friends, like shopping or just taking the train into the city to explore. I love watching people go about their day, especially in the city. I love pointing out the tourists from the New Yorkers (the tourists are usually the ones poorly dressed in Abercrombie & Fitch, or the ones who look like they’re trying way too hard. And the New Yorkers are usually the ones who scoff at them, or accidentally scrape shoulders with someone on the street without saying sorry). I love the endless commotion, the different types of people, whether it’s a little kid on the train selling Welch’s Fruit Snacks to raise money for his basketball team, or a businessman in a suit running from the heavily secured entrance of the New York Stock Exchange (I don’t particularly like the gentrifying hipsters but that’s another thing). I always wonder what their stories are.

But 87 stories above is the observation deck of the Empire State Building. Everybody is clearly a tourist except for me (A woman and her daughter cut in front of me in line and when I, a seemingly little girl, made a comment, the woman was squirming). And don’t think I’d pay the $30-something admission for just a view, I got up here for free. I’m up here because I got a job touring Italian kids around New York City.

Looking down, I can pinpoint anything and everything. The way I’m facing, to the right is Queens, and I can point out the two bridges that lead to my neighborhood, and navigate to the approximate location of my house. To the left is Downtown Manhattan and the Verrazano to Staten Island. I can see the Flat Iron Building. That’s been my favorite building in New York for a long time because it's a force that splits one street into two. I can see the famous New Year’s Ball in Times Square. The Italians haven’t been to Times Square yet, so they love that. I explained that every New Yorker knows to avoid Times Square at all costs since all the tourists are so mesmerized by the glorified and glowing advertisements that everyone turns into a tortoise with the speed they’re going. I can see cars stuck in traffic, and I think they kind of deserve it because who thinks of bringing their car into Manhattan? The funny thing is, I can’t hear them honking, but I can clearly imagine the sound.

I’m willing to let go of the thought because from up here, it all seems so quiet—I realize that’s the word I keep using to describe the place, but it’s simply the most fitting one. Not much going on, just quiet. Quiet in New York City—oh, the irony! Not once have I asked for quiet from New York because that’s not something you can expect from the place. Plus, I never thought I needed it. Now that I’m up here, so close to the clouds that my lungs feel heavy, I realize that the tourists aren’t making a sound because the view is truly worth it. And if I could, I’d sit here all day.